Finding joy.

This weekend I sincerely fell apart, my tears fell and my heart broke a little more.

But this is ok.

Because falling apart allows you to put yourself back together.

In the brokeness you can find your truth.

Grief is a shit there is no doubt about that but this weekend in the midst of my grief I felt joy.

How crazy is that?

Loving is scary, there is always the thought that your heart could get broken

But not loving is really not living.

So in the my midst of pain I will hold on to the joy.

The amazing incredible joy I feel when I think of my beautiful girl.

The joy of knowing how blessed I was to love this child.

The blessing I have being a mom to four amazing girls and two incredible boys.

So right now whatever pain you are facing or whatever fear is tearing at your heart, hold on to your joy.

For it is said ….

‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Seven years too long.

I rose from my sleep to the sound of my youngest crying, large pain filled sobs filled the air. I went to her bedside and she just held me close. The tears didn’t stop, each one choking her voice. I didn’t want then to ask what was a matter, I just waited for the sorrow to allow her to speak.

“ I’m forgetting her mom”

These four words struck me hard in the pit of my stomach, “ I was trying to remember her favourite song, the one we had to listen to so many times, but I cannot remember it”.

“I don’t want to forget her, I need to remember everything to keep her alive in my heart.”

Alive, it has been seven long years since my precious girl was alive.

 

Seven grief drowned years since the blue of her eyes sparkled with mischievousness.

Since those sweet dimpled red rosy cheeks smiled up at me.

I’m scared too, I’m so frighted that each day that passes without her is another step in the gulf between us.

My mind trembles over the memories, reaching out into the depths for the moments.

I want to reach out and hold her hands in mine, those soft silky hands with her long twisty fingers.

I want to hold her close and smell the fruity fragrance of her favourite shampoo.

I want to close my eyes and hear her sweet giggle as it washes over me.

I’m scared too.

 

I’m so desperately scared that I will forget one precious moment I shared with her.

Forget how it felt to hold her.

Forget how it felt to love her.

Seven years is simply seven years too long.

7 years too long

I was only wondering the other day about memories and how many the brain can actually hold.

I was fearful that my mind would save those that didn’t matter and lose those that do.

I don’t want to remember song lyrics or days at work, I want to remember my beautiful daughter, my Livvy.

I only have nine and a half years to hold onto to, please let me keep them all.

I want to remember everything and anything, from snotty noses to belly laughs I want them all.

Like Brodie I want to know the words to her favourite songs to see her dancing along to her favourite tune.

Please don’t let me forget.

Seven years

How in the world has it been seven years?

Time seems to have made no impact on my broken heart.

Still it calls out for her,

The calendar says seven years has passed

But my arms still ache to hold her.

My lap yearns to feel her upon it.

I hold her sister in my arms and we just allow our tears to fall, then Brodie turns to me and says “parachute girl, flies over the world and jumps up out of the airplane

We haven’t forgotten, we wont forget.

How can we,

How could we?

Every moment of those nine and a half years we had together is a gift that we will cherish forever.

Every second spend with our beautiful girl blessed our hearts.

Seven years may have passed but Livvy is and always will be

Their niece

Their granddaughter

Their sister

Our beautiful girl,

Our precious daughter.

how i miss this girl

Who am I now?

What is the term for a parent who loses a child? 

If you lose your partner you become known a widow or widower.

If a child loses their parents they become a orphan.

But what do you call a women who had lost her child.

I often find myself struggling when asked how many children I have, do I say four and then when asked more about them explain that one will be forever 9 and then wait through that uncomfortable silence that tears at my heart. Or do I just say three and not acknowledge my beautiful Livvy.

What about those parents who children didn’t stay. Is a woman who faced a still birth still a mom? 

It’s a hard and the worlds terminology needs to catch up and allow us to honour our children. 

I do always say I have four children in fact I am a mom of 6, two may be in heaven but they are still hold pieces my heart.

To the parents whose child never got to stay you are still mom and dad and nothing can take that from you and if someone tries send them my way.

I mean if your brother or sister died do you stop being their sibling. If your parents die do you stop being someone’s son and daughter. Of course not.

So I want a name I want something to honour my loss and cherish the part my child still holds in my life.

I asked my friends how they would describe themselves now they have faced the ultimate loss. Broken parents, heartbroken, missing, all truly valuable words but for me it’s not enough. 

Then I came across this 

The word we are looking for, she says, “must be a quiet word, like our grief, but clear in its claim.” The word “widow,” which means “empty” in Sanskrit, is such a word, and that same language, she suggests, provides another for us to borrow: “vilomah.” This means “against a natural order,” she writes. “As in, the gray-haired should not bury those with black hair. As in our children should not precede us in death.”
K F C Holloway 

Vilomah, this word sits right with me. 
Against the natural order. 
I should have never had to bury my child. To walk away from a hospital room never to hold them again. No parent should have to plan their child’s funeral.

It’s against the natural order.

So maybe I am a Vilomah a word that may never be understood but is held as truth in my heart.